5 Of Drunk Freaks & Ice Packs
by Heroes Fly-Minho's Hero Limps
Summary: When someone else gets too close to Newt, Minho has to let them know who he really belongs to. (Warning: M-rated for a reason, though not too graphic XD)


Of Drunk Freaks &amp; Ice Packs

**okay, warning to you all: this is M-rated for a reason. I wanted to see if I could write a certain scene in this, cuz I know some people like to read those more heated scenes with Minho and Newt. Before you freak out, I didn't get too graphic at all. Just a little more Minewt for you guys ;)

I hope you like it! This one-shot's longer than most of my others, which kinda just happened, but oh well! Enjoy!

PS: Special thanks to Nalbyismylife for reviewing my stories and letting me know that yes, it was okay to write this XD This one's for you, haha.

Reviews/requests are welcome :) **

"Anybody could be good to you

You need a bad boy to blow your mind."

–Max Schneider/Sam Tsui/Kurt Schneider cover of Bang Bang

...

Did Minho like going to bars? No. No he did not. They were crowded, and sometimes crappy (though there were SOME clean bars out there, so no offense to you guys), and there was always some idiotic, drunk guy/girl hitting on you. But Brenda had wanted to have a little get-together with a couple of friends and who did she invite? Alby, Newt, and Teresa. And Minho.

They got two steps into the place and a girl stumbled straight into Alby, (apologizing profusely while sneakily trying to touch multiple places on his body.) They were off to a great start.

"Aw, isn't this great?" Brenda asked brightly. Her brown eyes sparkled as she gazed around at her group of friends. She was wearing her nicest skinny jeans and a pink tank top. Her chocolate-colored hair was pulled back, showing off her golden hoop earrings.

"Maybe a little TOO great," Alby remarked, watching uneasily as Teresa reached for another drink. She met his concerned eyes with her icy blue ones and flipped her ebony hair carelessly over her shoulder.

"Careful, Resa," Brenda called. She pointed an imperious finger at her best friend. "You always get like this when you go out to places with me and I am NOT watching you throw up again."

Newt glanced over from his seat at the bar, next to Minho. "Wait, is this a problem now?" he asked. "Teresa actually gets DRUNK?"

Teresa waved her hand around wildly in a gesture of denial. "I'm not drunk! I do not GET drunk! And I don't have a problem!" She went to lift her glass to her lips; halfway there, Alby plucked it from her hand and set it down a foot away from her reach.

"Oh, I think you do," he replied drily.

"Jerk," she grumbled, crossing her arms like a scolded kid.

Newt snorted in amusement. "Yeah, you have a problem all right, Teresa," he commented, flicking a lock of blonde hair out of his face. Then he noticed Minho propping his head up on his hand, gazing off into the distance. He smiled and nudged Minho with his elbow. "Earth to Minho. You alive?"

"Barely," Minho answered sarcastically. He ran a hand through his jagged, raven hair. "Watching that girl all over Alby is the highlight of my night."

Brenda barked a laugh at that, and Alby shot Minho a glare over her shoulder. "Hey, it ain't my fault the woman was desperate AND drunk!" he protested.

Minho flashed a smirk in return. "She HAD to be desperate and drunk, if she was going after you."

Brenda almost spit out her drink and Teresa laughed way too hard and snorted.

Alby scowled. "Oh, ha ha, very funny. Next time some freak hits on YOU, don't expect me to help you out."

"Next time some freak hits on me, I'm sending them over to you," Minho quipped, his teasing grin widening.

Newt rolled his eyes. "Next time some freak hits on you, I'm decking him."

Minho laughed and placed a brief kiss on his husband's forehead. Brenda nodded, smiling in agreement with Newt's statement. Teresa whooped, "yeah, go get em, Newton!" Then she leaned forward quickly and snatched her drink back from Alby. He could only frown at her witheringly as she took a smug sip.

For a moment, Minho forgot about his bad mood. Sure, maybe the bar's lighting was...less-than-average, and there were "drunk freaks," but the food and drinks had been good. He was sitting with his husband and his best friends, laughing. He supposed that maybe the night wouldn't be so bad after all. Just then, Teresa spilled some of her drink on Alby, making him squawk in annoyance. Brenda, of course, began laughing at his reaction and Minho had to tease his friend a bit more. As he did, he briefly turned his back on Newt. And didn't notice the situation happening behind him...

Newt was watching Minho joking around, admiring the strong curve of his shoulders under his gray shirt. He was enjoying himself, of course, but part of him longed to be alone with his stunning husband. He rested an elbow on the bar and reached for his drink. To his surprise, someone's fingers hooked around the glass and inched it away from him. He glanced up—and met the green eyes of the biggest, drunkest freak in existence. Black hair with a shock of emerald in the bangs, leather jacket, tall enough to take on even Minho. He might've been attractive, if he hadn't had fifteen face piercings and a permanent sneer. The guy twisted that sneer into something that resembled a flirtatious grin. "Hey, baby. What're you doing here, all by yourself?"

Oh, so he was blind now, too. Newt pointed a thumb over his shoulder at his friends. "Um, I'm not alone, actually," he informed Piercings-and-Leather. He was already starting to turn away. He assumed the dude got the message. He did not.

"C'mon, don't be like that," Piercings drawled, leaning way too close to Newt, almost crowding in on him. His green eyes glinted. "You don't have to act like we wouldn't have some fun; I saw you with Tall, Dark, and Handsome over there. I might have something you'd want too."

"You have no idea how wrong you are," Newt answered stonily.

"My name's Kyle," Piercings went on, as though Newt had never spoken. He hooked his ankle around Newt's. "What's yours, darling?"

"You will never find out," Newt snapped, wrenching his foot away from Kyle. He shot the guy a smoldering glare.

Kyle placed a hand on his chest in mock hurt. "My, my, I didn't realize I was offending you." Smirking evilly, he reached up to catch a strand of blonde hair between two fingers, twirling it once. "Just wanna know your name, angel."

Newt immediately felt sick at hearing that nickname come out of the guy's mouth. "Don't touch me." He shoved Kyle's arm away. To his shock, Kyle only dropped it to Newt's shoulder.

"Aw, come on," Kyle crooned, fingertips playing with the sleeve of Newt's black tee. "You're making this so much harder than it has to be. You can't come in here looking like that and not expect someone to act on it, right?" His eyes raked over Newt from head to toe.

"Let go of me," Newt growled icily.

"Or what?" Kyle grinned dangerously.

Suddenly, a hand came down on the bar with a bang and a body slid between them, forcing Kyle to let go of Newt. Minho arched an eyebrow, a black look in his eyes. "I'd listen to him, if I were you," he said in a voice like steel. Brenda, Teresa, and Alby were all peering down in concern and disgust toward Kyle.

Kyle sighed like he pitied them. Then he straightened his jacket and stood up. He was as tall as Minho, and broad-shouldered too. He cocked his head to one side, their faces inches apart. "You know, it's kinda rude to interrupt a conversation like that. I was just trying to talk to my pretty little blonde for a minute."

"You ever talk to or touch him again, one of these barstools is going up your ass," Minho flashed back. He faced Kyle with his entire body tensed like a coiled wire. "And he's not your 'pretty little blonde.'"

"Ohhhhh, right," Kyle said nastily. "I forgot; he's yours, isn't he? Don't wanna share?"

"Damn right I don't." Minho's hands were fists at his sides.

Kyle laughed like this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard. Then he sneered his awful sneer. "We don't have to be so TENSE, do we?" he asked lightly. His gaze travelled over Minho's body and he licked his lips appreciatively. "No need to be jealous; I'd take you too, baby. The blonde's pretty, but you're downright edible."

"Ten seconds," Minho snapped. "That's all the time you get to get the hell away from me before I break your neck."

Teresa and Brenda exchanged worried glances, and Newt looked sharply at Minho. "Minho," he said warningly. "He's not worth it."

"Minho," Kyle purred, trying the name out on his tongue. "I like that."

Brenda abruptly stood. "Okay, I think we've heard enough," she said loudly. "Let's just get out of here, guys."

Alby nodded. "I'm going with Brenda on this one," he added. His dark gaze pierced into Kyle. Teresa trailed behind them as they headed for the exit, taking Alby's arm for support.

Newt was standing now too, his dark blue eyes cutting into Kyle. He touched the small of Minho's back. "C'mon, Min," he said quietly. "Don't worry about him."

"Yeah, Min," Kyle added mockingly. "Go on, now."

Minho bristled. Newt curled his fingers in the back of his shirt. "Minho, forget about him," he said. "For me, okay?"

That seemed to get through to him. Minho took a step back, shooting Kyle a last dark glower. He let Newt lead him toward the exit behind their friends, hand still at his waist. Kyle watched them leave, ignoring the stares from onlookers around him. Then he noticed something about Newt and smirked. "Fine then!" he called after them. "Leave! Can't have much fun with a cripple anyway."

Newt flinched and Brenda gaped at Kyle over her shoulder in outrage. Minho halted dead in his tracks. Ignoring his friends' pleading gazes, he sent Kyle a dangerous look. "What did you say?" he asked slowly.

Kyle gave a who?-me? expression of innocence. "Just stating the obvious," he shrugged. "If I'd known your little blonde was a cripple, well, maybe I wouldn't have said a word to him."

Minho stalked right up to Kyle, until there was hardly any space between them. People exchanged anxious glances. "Don't call him that," he bit out. "Not in front of me."

"I can call him whatever I want."

"You think so, huh?"

"Yeah. I do."

"Then say it again. I dare you."

Kyle pressed his lips together, considering it. Minho faced him, taught as a bowstring. There was a challenge in both of their stances . Everyone around them knew what was about to happen. Kyle took a breath and said, clearly, "your little blonde is a no-good, useless, cripple."

He was on the floor in less than a second.

...

"Did you really have to hit him that hard?"

Minho frowned up at Newt from his place on the couch, his black hair mussed and a bruise marring his forehead. There were several more marking the skin on his arms, but they weren't very noticeable. The only bad one was a nasty purple-blue bruise on his lower back; damn Kyle had shoved him up hard against the bar. "I didn't hit him THAT hard," Minho argued, examining his sore knuckles."He did have a damn hard nose though."

Newt sighed and turned back toward the kitchen to get an ice pack or frozen peas, or something. "I didn't want you to start a fight," he called over his shoulder. "People will be scared of us if we go back there again."

"Actually, they'll be scared of me," Minho pointed out matter-of-factly. "You can go back anytime you want."

"But you don't want me to go alone, right?" Newt asked flatly.

"No, I don't."

"I can take care of myself, Minho."

"Yeah," Minho sighed, looking down at the bruises on his arms. "I know."

"You shucking idiot." Newt shook his head, having found an ice pack, and walked back into the living room. He sank down onto the couch beside Minho. Pointedly, he held up the ice pack and gestured at his husband. "Off."

Minho blinked dumbly. "Huh?"

"Your shirt," Newt explained, casting his eyes up at the ceiling. "You gotta get some ice on that bruise on your back."

"Oh. Right." Minho gave a half-smile and tugged his shirt off in one motion. He rested his elbows on his knees, letting Newt see the curving stretch of his back and the ugly bruise. Newt pressed the ice pack to the discolored skin and Minho suddenly squeaked. He jerked away from Newt so that the ice pack wouldn't touch his skin. "Holy shit, that's cold."

"It's an ICE PACK," Newt replied meaningfully. "What'd you think it was gonna be?"

"Um..."

"Just turn back around." Newt waited. Minho did nothing. The blonde raised his eyebrows. "Minho."

"I don't want that thing touching me," Minho told him.

"You're being a wimp." Newt reached for Minho's shoulder to make him turn. Minho edged farther away down the couch. Newt tried again; Minho moved away again. "Minho, I swear to God..."

"You're not putting that on my back," Minho stated.

"You're hurt," Newt reminded him, holding the ice pack out like a weapon. "You need this."

"I don't care."

"You're acting like a child, you do know that, right?"

"Again, I don't care."

"Minho."

"Newt."

Newt looked at him for a long moment. Then he dove across the couch. He tackled Minho to the cushions, making Minho yelp and struggle to free himself. They wrestled like a couple of kids, Minho yelling that he suddenly felt much better and didn't need ice, and Newt scolding him while trying to get the ice pack on his back. "You...are...going...to...let...me...HELP...YOU," Newt bit out, as he flung his arms around Minho's waist and tried to reach around to his back.

"No—Agh! Shit! Let go!" Minho pushed at Newt's shoulders, twisting his body to avoid the frozen touch of ice at his lower back. "This is attempted murder!"

"Ice will not KILL YOU," Newt protested loudly.

"A violation of my rights then!"

"Which right?!"

"The right to...er...um."

"Exactly!"

The ice pack grazed the bruise (FINALLY) and Minho hissed. He got a good grip on Newt's arms at last and pushed off the couch, flipping them over. Newt hit the cushions with a muffled thump, surprise registering in his expression. Minho straddled his hips and tore the ice pack from his hand. He stabbed it into the air in triumph. "HA! I win, shank!"

They stared at each other breathlessly for a long minute. Then they realized how utterly ridiculous this was and burst out laughing. Minho went to hug his stomach and accidentally touched himself with the ice pack; he dropped it with a jump—straight onto Newt's chest. Newt squawked and shoved it onto the floor. "Dammit, that thing's cold!" he chortled between fits of laughter.

"Really?" Minho snickered sarcastically.

"Shut up."

They laughed even harder. Newt's sides ached from the force of it and Minho might've been crying. It was the kind of laughter that only came from each other's company. When it finally died away enough, Newt relaxed against the couch, closing his eyes. A few chuckles still left him and he couldn't stop the smile on his face. The couch moved underneath him; he opened his eyes to see Minho still straddling him, leaning down to rub their noses together. His grin broadened. "You're such a bloody wimp," he muttered.

Minho's mouth quirked. "I know."

"That bruise is gonna bother you later," Newt added. His smile faltered as Minho trailed his fingertips over his cheek.

"Yeah, probably." Minho placed a kiss on Newt's forehead. He continued to touch tiny kisses down Newt's nose.

Newt shivered. "It was very sweet, though," he murmured. "How you got into a fight for me. Just because of something he said."

Minho growled and the sound sent pleasant tingles across Newt's skin. "He was a bastard, going after you." He played with the hem of Newt's shirt, tracing the waistband of his jeans and making Newt shudder. "You're mine," he mumbled, nuzzling Newt's neck. "No one else's. All mine."

"God, I love you, Minho," Newt breathed.

Minho's mouth curved against his skin. "I love you too."

Newt was taken off-guard when Minho kissed him, locking their mouths together in smoldering heat. He kissed Newt possessively, leaving them both gasping for air. Newt didn't mean to react the way he did; he clung to Minho's waist and rocked his hips up into Minho's. Minho moaned into his mouth at the contact. His fingers curled into Newt's shirt, ripping it up his body. Buzzing from his touch, Newt sat up to let him tear his shirt off and leave it on the floor.

Minho ran his hands reverently down Newt's body, tracing the smooth, rippling muscle of his chest and stomach. Newt tipped his head back at the sensation and longed for more. "You're so gorgeous," Minho murmured, bending to brush his lips to Newt's collarbone. He kissed the golden skin sweetly, then nipped at a place near Newt's neck. Newt inhaled a shaky breath.

"M—Minho," he stammered, as Minho hooked his fingers into his jeans and made short work of undoing them.

"I want you," Minho confessed quietly. As if to prove it, he crushed their hips together again. Newt's fingertips dug into Minho's sides and he couldn't stop the tiny sound of pleasure that left him.

Chest rising and falling, Newt felt Minho tugging at his jeans. "You know, we have a bed," he managed.

"I want you now," Minho replied darkly, pulling Newt's jeans down to his knees.

"God, Min, I—" Newt broke off when Minho's hand closed on him over his boxers and he teasingly stroked a thumb down his length. An awful, pleading whine escaped his throat.

"Shuck it, I can't do this on a damn couch," Minho decided. He slid his hands under Newt's back and Newt shoved his jeans off the rest of the way with one foot. Standing up, Minho lifted Newt into his arms. Newt looped his legs around Minho's waist and kissed his neck as he backed toward the hallway and the bedroom. He reached a sensitive place under Minho's ear and nibbled mischievously. Gasping, Minho almost dropped him.

They made it back to the bedroom, a vast room with golden walls and dark wooden furniture. The bed was piled with soft pillows and blankets, and was warm-looking in the dim light. Minho eased Newt back onto it and held himself over his angel. Newt's hair was delightfully tousled, his blue eyes darkened with passion, and his skin flushed from the heat they made together. He was the most beautiful thing Minho had ever seen.

He ducked his head to kiss Newt's neck, moving his mouth downwards toward his chest. Newt's breaths came faster and his fingers threaded through Minho's hair. Minho trailed his lips the whole way down to Newt's navel, lingering above his boxers. Smirking, he tugged lightly at the waistband with his teeth. Newt sucked in a harsh breath. "Please, Minho."

Minho continued his teasing, kissing all along Newt's length over the fabric. Newt's back arched, desperate for more. "What do you want, angel?" he asked devilishly, slipping a finger around Newt's waistband.

Newt trembled as Minho peeled his boxers down and off. "Dammit, Min," he bit out. "Your mouth."

"Where, here?" Minho dropped a kiss to Newt's hip.

"N—no," Newt stuttered.

"Here?" Minho grazed his lips along Newt's inner thigh.

Newt gasped. "No, God, please, Minho."

"Oh, you mean here," Minho murmured deviously, and licked Newt's length once.

Newt threw his head back and moaned brokenly. "Y—yes, there, oh god—"

Satisfied with himself, Minho finally closed his mouth over Newt. Newt's fingers clawed into the sheets, his chest heaving. Minho sucked hard and knew he was driving Newt wild. Torturously, he paused to run his tongue up every side of Newt's length. Newt mewled, hips bucking upward, eyes rolling back. "Minho," he groaned out drunkenly. Minho smirked. He kept working at Newt with tongue and teeth until the blonde collapsed against the bed again, panting deliciously. Kissing back up Newt's body, he slid along the bed until their lips were an inch apart.

"You're gonna bloody pay for that," Newt growled. Strands of blonde hair flopped down across his forehead.

Minho arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really?" he asked daringly. He'd love to see Newt try.

"I'm gonna make you beg for me." And Newt seized Minho by the shoulders and flipped them over, slamming their mouths together in a consuming kiss.

...

Later, when the full darkness of night had fallen over the room, a shaft of moonlight crept its way across the carpeted floor. It stretched its silvery light over the rumpled sheets and blankets, turning them to blue shadows. It also lit two figures underneath the covers, breathless and curled around each other.

Minho relaxed against the mattress, his body shuddering. He felt electrified all over, holding Newt close in the dark, an arm secure around his waist. He buried his face against Newt's chest. "That was incredible," he gasped out. "You're incredible."

Newt gave a laugh, a light, lovely sound in the dimness. "Told you I'd make you beg," he whispered evilly, lacing his fingers through Minho's velvety black hair.

"Shut up," Minho muttered. Newt chuckled in response.

The moonlight continued to travel through the window, as the night fell over the house. The room felt too dark, the way rooms always do at night, when the blackness presses in and there's nothing but silence to fill the air. Minho couldn't help but shiver, grateful for Newt's presence. He snuggled closer to his husband, nosing into his chest and inhaling the smell of cinnamon and skin and home. Newt played with his hair softly, stroking his fingers through it. The movement made Minho sleepy and his eyelids drooped.

"Newt?" he mumbled, almost afraid to break the silence.

"Hmm?"

"Look at me."

Surprised, Newt watched as Minho lifted his head from his chest, far enough to meet Newt's gaze. Minho sighed slightly and lifted a hand to stroke Newt's cheek tenderly. The blonde closed his eyes at the touch. "God. Even after all this time," Minho whispered, and Newt's eyes opened again, "I'm still so crazily in love with you."

Newt smiled and dropped his gaze bashfully. "Come here, Minho," he murmured, pulling Minho back against him. This time, they instinctively linked together the way they always did: Newt's head tucked against Minho's chest, their legs twined under the sheets, and Minho with one arm holding Newt close. Newt rubbed his cheek against Minho's chest and let out a soft, contented sound. "I love you, Min," he whispered, voice shaky with emotion.

Minho nuzzled Newt's hair in return, folding the love of his life safely in his arms. He could feel Newt's heartbeat so close to his, reminding him that he was here, he had his angel in his arms, and there was no one that could ever take him away. Newt was his, and he was Newt's, and that was all he'd ever wanted.

He listened to Newt's soft breathing in the dark before sleep dragged them both into dreams.


End file.
